by Jonas Saul
The man crumpled forward into Aaron. He no longer reached for Aaron as his hands now clung to the front of his neck, but his weight drove Aaron back into the wall.
Man number one was on the move. He jumped over the downed chair, raised the hand with the needle, and brought it down toward Aaron’s stomach.
With his feet still tangled under the weight of man number two, all Aaron could do was fend off the needle from his awkward position against the wall. Quick as he could, he smacked the man’s hand away, hoping to dislodge the offending syringe. As it sailed away, his gaze following it to confirm it was out of action, he failed to see man number one’s fist come from the other side.
His vision faltered at the impact, stars coalesced in place of the cabin, and his balance shifted.
Then another fist came from the other side. His head got hit twice as it bounced off the wall beside him.
He fought to keep on his feet. He thrust his arms out in a defensive attack, but somehow another fist, or what felt like a chunk of stone, walloped him behind the ear and the stars were replaced by darkness as he slumped down the wall and crumpled to the floor.
The last conscious thought was one word.
Sarah …
Chapter 9
“Aaron?” A familiar voice. “Come on, open your eyes. It’s Parkman.”
Aaron shot his hands up, eyes blinking rapidly to clear the fuzziness. He was outside. Lying down. The sun was still up, the air warm.
Parkman had stepped back, remaining a safe distance. Police cars were on the property. An ambulance with its lights flashing sat ten yards away.
“You feeling okay?” Parkman asked.
“Sarah?” Aaron said.
Parkman shook his head. A policeman with a thick midsection and thick mustache to match stepped up beside Parkman.
“We were hoping you would know something,” the officer said. “Like who did this?” He gestured at the cabin.
Aaron coughed, cleared his throat and sat up. A paramedic moved close but Aaron waved him off.
“Got any water?”
Parkman nodded and slipped inside the cabin. He returned a moment later and handed a glass of water to Aaron. After a long drink, he got to his feet. The side of his head ached but that was all he felt. He was lucky they didn’t do worse.
“Two guys,” Aaron started. The cop took out a notepad and started to write. “Two big guys. Black leather jackets. Don’t know how they got in. Waiting for me—”
“It’s obvious how they got in,” Parkman interjected. “They busted through the front door and ripped all the alarm wires out of the panel in the bathroom.”
A plainclothes officer walked up. “I’m Nick Kershaw. And no, I don’t sing.”
“Huh?”
He shook his head to brush off the comment. “Parkman is an old colleague. Most of us know him from years ago.” Kershaw snuck an admiring glance at Parkman. “And read about his time in Los Angeles last year.” He looked back at Aaron. “He said he was talking to you on your cell as you approached the building.” The other officer with the thick mustache held his pen poised over the pad, waiting for Aaron to speak.
Parkman offered an almost imperceptible nod.
“Two guys came out of nowhere. Surprised me. I tried to fight back.”
“It’s okay,” Parkman said as he put an arm around Aaron’s shoulder. “At least they left you alone once you were knocked out.”
Aaron glanced inside the cabin. It had been ransacked, completely destroyed. The couch was torn apart and flipped upside down. The table was broken into multiple pieces, the counters slashed. Papers, garbage, and Sarah’s computer parts scattered the floor. The only thing left intact was the Stephen King book Sarah had been reading. It sat like an island of sanity amongst the ruins of a destructive force.
“Did you hear anything?” Kershaw asked. “See anything that would help us locate Miss Sarah Roberts?”
Aaron turned back and looked into his eyes. “I wish I did. That’s why I came here. Sarah called me last night.”
“What call?”
Parkman gave him a stern look, but Aaron didn’t have the same level of distrust of the cops as Sarah and Parkman seemed to share. Sure, some of them were assholes, but having more information might help.
“She left me a message this morning about the footprints she’d discovered surrounding the cabin. She thought she heard something last night. When she went out to investigate, a deer was in the yard. It wasn’t until this morning that she found evidence of someone else’s presence.”
“Do you know where she was supposed to be today?”
“A doctor’s appointment,” Parkman piped in. “She should be back soon.”
“After this,” Kershaw pointed at the cabin again, “and someone watching her last night, who knows where she is or when she’ll be back. I’ll get this in and, hey Aaron, do you have a current photo of Sarah?”
“Not on me.”
“Okay, I’ll contact her parents for an up-to-date photo. We’ll get it out to every unit in the state. If she shows up, great. If not, we’ll do everything we can to find her.”
“Thanks,” Parkman said and shook Kershaw’s hand.
They stepped away and Parkman led Aaron for a walk around the building. At the back, he said, “Tell me what happened. We have to find Sarah before they do.”
“Why?” Aaron looked at him. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“You know how Sarah feels about cops in general.”
“I thought her hatred of them was over. Look at what she just did in Los Angeles.”
“Hatred lasts a long time. The whole reason she’s in this cabin and seeing that shrink—”
“Not shrink,” Aaron said.
“Okay, psychiatrist, although Sarah and I have different opinions of them, is because of what a cop did to her. Now this happens and cops come looking for her. It’s just, the one time she wants to take two months to herself, read, relax, sleep in, do whatever she needs to do to be able to quiet her mind with Vivian in there rummaging around, and then this happens. Not good.”
“On that I agree.”
“Thanks for thinking fast back there. Now that the story is the guys who attacked you broke in, you’re no longer in a wringer.”
They walked to the perimeter of the lot. Aaron leaned against a tree, still trying to clear his head.
“What can you tell me?” Parkman asked.
“After silencing the alarm, I fired up her laptop. Found nothing of interest until I discovered an email from someone named Rebecca Lincoln.”
“Lincoln? As in Cole Lincoln?”
Aaron nodded. “The sister.”
“Really? Sounds like Sarah was onto something.”
“Rebecca was responding to Sarah’s email. Said something about Cole getting into trouble. Someone was murdered. He lost his job. Underage prostitutes and corruption charges or something like that. Rebecca had written where Cole is, but then I detected someone behind me.” He shook his head in dismay.
“What?”
“I just don’t know how they got the jump on me. No one was here when I broke in. The alarm was on. They couldn’t already be inside.”
Two officers walked around the back of the cabin and stopped to examine the rear window. Once they moved off, Parkman turned to face him again.
“The alarm panel is in the bathroom. How long were you in there trying to disable the siren?”
“A whole minute, maybe more.”
“Couldn’t they have run in during that minute and then hid in the bedroom until you were seated at the table, refocused on the computer?”
“I guess so. But I should’ve beat them, though. I’m faster, lighter, and can think better on my feet.”
“Even black belts take a beating sometimes.”
“They had a needle. Tried to stick me with it.”
Parkman tilted his head back and raised his eyebrows. “Really? That adds a twist to things.”
; “Maybe these cops—” Aaron waved his arm —“will find it in the mess in there and can analyze it.”
“Hope so. Would love to know what they were carrying. It could help in locating the source and in turn could possibly lead us to them, because at this point we have no idea who we’re after or where Sarah is.”
A soft breeze picked up, cooling Aaron. “Did Sarah give you the doctor’s name or location? Anything?”
“She said something about it being above a lawyer’s office. Maybe a half-hour drive from here. The doctor’s safe, though. Vivian recommended him.”
“Vivian?”
“Yeah.”
Officer Kershaw came running around the building, his face red and stressed. “There you are,” he shouted. “We have to leave. You guys want a ride along?”
“Where are we going?” Parkman asked.
“A woman’s body was just found inside a Dodge Charger in the parking lot of a lawyer’s office. After the call came in, my guy checked the plates and then called me. This particular Dodge Charger is registered to Sarah Roberts. I’m sorry. Thought you guys might want to see what’s going on first hand. And if it’s Sarah, I’ll need a positive ID.”
The pit of Aaron’s stomach dropped and twirled and spun in circles. Aaron started humming a tune as he fell in step behind Parkman as they followed the cop to his car.
“Why are you humming?” Parkman asked.
“Because it’s pretty hard to gag while humming.”
Parkman looked back over his shoulder. “You’re going to gag?”
“No. Throw up. Trying not to.”
“Please don’t. It’s not Sarah in that car. Everything will work out. Just chill.”
Aaron hummed until the cabin was out of sight.
Chapter 10
Kershaw’s police car screeched to a halt in the parking lot, twenty feet behind Sarah’s Dodge. They couldn’t go any farther as state trooper cruisers and other emergency personnel littered the lot.
The coroner was already on site. Kershaw, with Aaron and Parkman following close, exited the cruiser and moved toward Sarah’s car.
White-coated men were inside the Charger. Aaron’s heart sank as he recognized it as Sarah’s. The entire fifteen minutes it took to get there, he hoped and prayed it wouldn’t be Sarah’s car and that there had been some kind of mix-up. But his prayers went unanswered.
The woman being worked on had dark brown hair, almost black. Aaron and Parkman had arrived in time to watch as they extricated the body from the front seat of Sarah’s car. The heavyset woman was definitely not Sarah.
Then he remembered something.
“Parkman, you said Sarah was meeting a doctor above a lawyer’s office. Sarah’s car is here.” Aaron pointed to the second floor of the brown office building. “And you said it was about a half-hour drive from the cabin.” He stepped in front of Parkman. “This is it. Sarah pulled in here this morning. Maybe the doctor’s around. He could know something.”
Parkman walked past him, accidentally bumping his shoulder as he went. Aaron watched him approach the officer in charge. Parkman got animated as he explained that they needed to get inside the building.
Aaron moved closer to hear better.
“But it’s sealed off,” the officer said. “Only our guys are getting inside. This is a crime scene.”
“You have to make an exception. We need to get upstairs, talk to the doctor or at least get contact information.”
The cop shook his head. “Not going to happen. Although I have no idea as to what you’re referring to. There’s no offices on the second floor. It’s all under renovation.”
Aaron stared up at the windows on the second floor, paying attention to what he could see of the inside. Unfinished walls, plastic wrapped in front of insulation, stickers still on the new panes of the windows. On the main floor, the door that led to the upstairs displayed a building permit.
“Is there even an office on the second floor?” Aaron asked loud enough for the officer in charge to hear.
“It’s being renovated. There’s only a lawyer’s office on the ground floor. That’s it.”
Parkman trudged back to Aaron. “What now?” he asked.
“No idea. Sarah’s gone. There’s a body in her car and we have no idea where to look for her.”
“Let’s work out what we do know.”
Officer Kershaw moved into their inner circle. “I’ll help if I can,” he said. “Let’s hear what you have so far.”
Aaron met Parkman’s eyes. He blinked back once, slowly.
It’s okay. This guy’s cool.
Aaron nodded. “Sarah was supposed to meet a doctor today. Second floor of a lawyer’s office. Half-hour drive from the cabin.” He pointed at the Charger. “Her car’s here.” He went on to update them once more on what happened when he got jumped, up until they arrived here. “But there’s something else. Yesterday, Sarah and I drove out to visit her sister’s gravesite.”
“And?” Kershaw prompted.
“Two men in dark leather jackets, like the two who jumped me today, were visiting another grave. After we left the cemetery, they passed us in their car. Sarah was sure they were watching us. She asked me if I thought so, too. I didn’t think they were and now realize I should’ve listened to her.”
“What were they driving?” Kershaw asked.
“A black Ford Fusion.”
“Anything else?”
Aaron shook his head.
“I’ll call it in and have my guys watching for two men in a Fusion. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”
He strode back to his cruiser and hopped in the front seat.
“We’ll find her, Aaron,” Parkman said.
“I hope so, but we’ve got nothing. I just hope she can handle whatever she’s going through on her own.”
“Me too, Aaron. Me too.”
Chapter 11
Something dug into her ankles and wrists. At first it was a bother, but now that her head was clearing, the ache intensified. A headache the size of Everest was booming from temple to temple in an attempt to open her cranium in whichever spot she might desire.
Bedsheets ruffled under her slightest movements. She became alert to her body and mentally examined it for injuries. Her thigh was a little sore from the way the needle was violently slammed in, but other than that, her headache was the only pain trying to rip her apart from the inside.
She opened her eyes and immediately jammed them shut. Cranial pressure seemed to double in that single motion. The lights above her bed shone inside her head and elevated the pain to white hot.
What the hell?
“I see you’re waking up.”
She didn’t open her eyes. Just turned her head toward the sound. The voice belonged to the fake doctor who trapped her. Dr. Lance Williams.
“How long have I been here?” she whispered.
“You’re not interested in knowing where here is first?” the doctor asked.
“I already know where I am.”
“Where’s that?”
“The building you die in. I’m good with that. How long I’ve been here is another thing entirely.” Talking worsened her migraine, but some things were more important than pain.
“Pray tell. Why does the length of your stay matter?”
“It’ll tell me how much backup I’ll have coming through that door when I’m ready to leave.”
“I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone with your tenacity. You lie on a bed, your wrists and ankles are secured with strong leather straps. You’re drugged. No one knows where you are and you can’t leave, but yet you’re talking as if I’m the prisoner. Wow, you’ve got some nerve, kid.”
She smiled, then tried to open her eyes. The pain flared and forced her eyes shut. She yanked up on her wrists and pulled her knees back, but all four restraints held tight.
“You can’t get out,” Williams said. “There is no escape from here.”
“Why am I here?”
she asked. Then, under her breath, “Wherever here is.”
“You are here because as a doctor I have the power to commit you involuntarily for a seventy-two hour hold according to California’s Mental Health laws. After you threatened suicide—”
